...The guard in the Metro station asked me last night as I was waiting for a friend (who didn't show up). In fact, no, I do not think that. I think that the climate here is more "tropical" than where I am from, and that here people give kisses on the cheeks and hugs to greet friends and strangers alike, but no, I do not think that my fellow male North Americans are cold, unfriendly, or on the whole unattractive.
Perhaps I need to make myself a little sign to carry around that says something akin to Newsflash: I did not come to live in Latin America for "hot Latin nights".
[[Although the exchange ended in me getting hit on, we did manage to maintain an interesting conversation about the recession of the U.S. economy (Don't you think it's caused by everyone having to pay for the effects of Hurricane Katrina plus the war on Iraq?), love at first sight (The first time I was kissed by a girl I fell in love.), and the quality of Chilean education (You're lucky to have choices. Go to the private university).]]
21 February 2008
16 February 2008
Sometimes being a stupid gringa reaches up, sort of slaps you in the face a little, and runs away with your cell phone.
Ringing in my new year of life I will not be able to ring anyone up. Hah.
I already bought a new one today, but last night my cell phone was stolen off my person. People had told me to be careful about talking on the street, but apparently sometimes one just has to learn these lessons for themselves. The entire experience left me with a sour taste in my mouth, but there is nothing I can do about it except be more careful in the future!
At any rate, I was going to attend a gathering of sorts in a bar that is a "typical Chilean" bar, which is in a slightly sketchy part of town. My friend and I arrive. The bar is extremely full. I look around and can't find who I am looking for, while the two of us meanwhile are transformed into the center of attention of an entire gaggle of drunk Chilean men shouting slurred English and Spanish at us. We decide to go outside to try and call my friends because we feel uncomfortable. I call. No one answers. I go to call again, starting to pace a little bit, but with the left side of my body toward the street and sidewalk.
The phone is next to my face, in my left hand, when all of a sudden I feel someone hit me pretty hard on my neck/shoulder. Thinking that it was one of my friends using very poor physical judgment in trying to surprise me from behind, I start turning. Understandably, the grip on my cell phone is loosened, and then all of a sudden the cell phone is gone. Stunned, I look on as a ten year old girl dressed in all denim runs away from me at top speed around a dark corner and disappears.
I feel like an idiot for not better heeding the advice of my roommates, but it is still a little unnerving to have a small girl rob a cell phone straight out of your hand on a street with lots of people on it. Add to that the issue of feeling uncomfortable in a bar where everyone was singling us out for noticeably being gringas, that I couldn't find my other friends, the difficulty I have understanding the Chilean accent, and my general discomfort with my Spanish since my arrival, and you have the perfect storm of my personal pity party realization that being a gringa in a completely foreign city actually really sucks.
Heading back toward the Metro, we talked to the Metro guards and they said that kind of stuff happens all the time; one ought not to speak on a cell phone at night in the street, particularly in those parts. Then he told my friend to step away from the metal grating that she was leaning against toward the street, because people would undoubtedly try to steal her necklace off her neck from behind as we were standing there talking. Nice. But, point being I am grateful it was just an old and inexpensive cell phone, that I have all those numbers written down, that nothing more important was robbed, and, most importantly, that I have learned to be more careful.
And on that note, cheers to a new year of life and learning.
I already bought a new one today, but last night my cell phone was stolen off my person. People had told me to be careful about talking on the street, but apparently sometimes one just has to learn these lessons for themselves. The entire experience left me with a sour taste in my mouth, but there is nothing I can do about it except be more careful in the future!
At any rate, I was going to attend a gathering of sorts in a bar that is a "typical Chilean" bar, which is in a slightly sketchy part of town. My friend and I arrive. The bar is extremely full. I look around and can't find who I am looking for, while the two of us meanwhile are transformed into the center of attention of an entire gaggle of drunk Chilean men shouting slurred English and Spanish at us. We decide to go outside to try and call my friends because we feel uncomfortable. I call. No one answers. I go to call again, starting to pace a little bit, but with the left side of my body toward the street and sidewalk.
The phone is next to my face, in my left hand, when all of a sudden I feel someone hit me pretty hard on my neck/shoulder. Thinking that it was one of my friends using very poor physical judgment in trying to surprise me from behind, I start turning. Understandably, the grip on my cell phone is loosened, and then all of a sudden the cell phone is gone. Stunned, I look on as a ten year old girl dressed in all denim runs away from me at top speed around a dark corner and disappears.
I feel like an idiot for not better heeding the advice of my roommates, but it is still a little unnerving to have a small girl rob a cell phone straight out of your hand on a street with lots of people on it. Add to that the issue of feeling uncomfortable in a bar where everyone was singling us out for noticeably being gringas, that I couldn't find my other friends, the difficulty I have understanding the Chilean accent, and my general discomfort with my Spanish since my arrival, and you have the perfect storm of my personal pity party realization that being a gringa in a completely foreign city actually really sucks.
Heading back toward the Metro, we talked to the Metro guards and they said that kind of stuff happens all the time; one ought not to speak on a cell phone at night in the street, particularly in those parts. Then he told my friend to step away from the metal grating that she was leaning against toward the street, because people would undoubtedly try to steal her necklace off her neck from behind as we were standing there talking. Nice. But, point being I am grateful it was just an old and inexpensive cell phone, that I have all those numbers written down, that nothing more important was robbed, and, most importantly, that I have learned to be more careful.
And on that note, cheers to a new year of life and learning.
15 February 2008
¡Feliz día de....!
I have been pleasantly surprised by the plethora of Valentine's Day names in Spanish that I have seen. From what I can remember, in good ol' US English we just say Valentine's Day (maybe slip a St. in there sometimes) and presto, voila, there is the day that everyone (minus those in love or fooling themselves to be) loves to hate.
At any rate, I have seen such variations in ads down here such as Happy St. Valentine's Day; Happy Lovers' Day; Happy Affection Day; Happy Day of Lovers; and so on and so forth. Cute.
Not cute, however (although bien amusing), is that my roommates have begun a campaign to convince me to attend this: Sensation White, i.e. a very expensive, dress-coded rave some weekend in March. I will repeat that: My roommates want me to go to a Chilean.... rave.
Aside from having absolutely no interest whatsoever in going owing to my extreme apathy toward rave culture and sheer boredom of that genre of electronic music, the "cheapest" ticket is running a price of approximately $30.000 CLP, or roughly, $65 USD. Right.
Despite their assertations that this will event will be "super cool!!!!" (super being everyone's favorite adverb in these parts), I just don't buy it. Unfortunately, I don't have the heart nor the Spanish prowess to adequately express my sentiments of "lame".
I can construct a long list of "better investments" for the precious little money I have to sustain me here, but chiefly, at the top of that list right now, is a nice new bicycle. (The roommates know this.) So, yesterday, I was brought out on a shopping expedition with my two female Chilean roommates, who now I refer to as the two P's, as they looked for a new bed frame. We ventured out past the City center (further than I have ventured before) toward the Franklin metro stop, region of warehouses and slightly sketchy but endearing street vendors. I felt right at home as if I were back in a Guatemalan market, except everything was a bit fancier and all the stalls better-established.
We wandered the Furniture sector looking for their bed item. Then, to my happy surprise, we went looking for the "Bike street", Calle San Diego. What a glorious little surprise that was! An entire I don't know-how-many-blocks stretch of Bike shops all along the same street. It never ceases to amaze me how, honestly, you can find entire item regions. I have lovingly begun to call this type of one-stop one-item shopping -o-landias, ie...We're going to Bicyclandia; We just came from Furnitureolandia; I am from Gringolandia (this particular phrase was not coined by me, but deserves mention), and so on.
At any rate, they had everything from very legit and nice looking bikes to expensive Trek road bikes to crap mountain bikes with shocks/suspension shooting out of anything you could imagine. Much to my chagrin, they were kind of expensive. But, I got a few quotes and went along my merry little way, and all signs point to a self-given Birthday present this weekend of bicycle, which means for a much happier me. The only problem will be maneuvering the bicycle into the elevator to get up and down from my apartment. But, there is always a solution (vertical)...
At any rate, I have seen such variations in ads down here such as Happy St. Valentine's Day; Happy Lovers' Day; Happy Affection Day; Happy Day of Lovers; and so on and so forth. Cute.
Not cute, however (although bien amusing), is that my roommates have begun a campaign to convince me to attend this: Sensation White, i.e. a very expensive, dress-coded rave some weekend in March. I will repeat that: My roommates want me to go to a Chilean.... rave.
Aside from having absolutely no interest whatsoever in going owing to my extreme apathy toward rave culture and sheer boredom of that genre of electronic music, the "cheapest" ticket is running a price of approximately $30.000 CLP, or roughly, $65 USD. Right.
Despite their assertations that this will event will be "super cool!!!!" (super being everyone's favorite adverb in these parts), I just don't buy it. Unfortunately, I don't have the heart nor the Spanish prowess to adequately express my sentiments of "lame".
I can construct a long list of "better investments" for the precious little money I have to sustain me here, but chiefly, at the top of that list right now, is a nice new bicycle. (The roommates know this.) So, yesterday, I was brought out on a shopping expedition with my two female Chilean roommates, who now I refer to as the two P's, as they looked for a new bed frame. We ventured out past the City center (further than I have ventured before) toward the Franklin metro stop, region of warehouses and slightly sketchy but endearing street vendors. I felt right at home as if I were back in a Guatemalan market, except everything was a bit fancier and all the stalls better-established.
We wandered the Furniture sector looking for their bed item. Then, to my happy surprise, we went looking for the "Bike street", Calle San Diego. What a glorious little surprise that was! An entire I don't know-how-many-blocks stretch of Bike shops all along the same street. It never ceases to amaze me how, honestly, you can find entire item regions. I have lovingly begun to call this type of one-stop one-item shopping -o-landias, ie...We're going to Bicyclandia; We just came from Furnitureolandia; I am from Gringolandia (this particular phrase was not coined by me, but deserves mention), and so on.
At any rate, they had everything from very legit and nice looking bikes to expensive Trek road bikes to crap mountain bikes with shocks/suspension shooting out of anything you could imagine. Much to my chagrin, they were kind of expensive. But, I got a few quotes and went along my merry little way, and all signs point to a self-given Birthday present this weekend of bicycle, which means for a much happier me. The only problem will be maneuvering the bicycle into the elevator to get up and down from my apartment. But, there is always a solution (vertical)...
14 February 2008
Addendum to observations of Day 4...
FANNY PACKS: Everywhere. Apparently a fanny pack is called a 'banano' here, i.e. a banana. This has been the source of much amusement for me.
13 February 2008
My theoretical non-venn venn diagram of basic perceived differences to this moment.
Guatemala
dogs (chuchos) everywhere that look mangy enough to give you diseases from a distance
vos
no trashcans
dirty water
spinach
cordial look in the eye and Buen@s Días/Tardes/Noches, que le vaya biens, and etc!
12 person mini vans filled to 22 plus a helper sticking his head out of the window
indigenous languages
sticking out like a sore thumb for being white and thus foreign
Chile
people stop on the street to give food to stray dogs (still perros)
tú y tú action (men)
well kept trashcans everywhere!
water that I drink out of the tap!
romaine lettuce if you're lucky
angry looks when you smile at someone; confused looks when you greet them
metro stations and seatbelts
weird accent. just weird
sticking out like a sore thumb for looking like i could be chilean, and then being a foreigner with a non-chilean accent who still speaks spanish.
dogs (chuchos) everywhere that look mangy enough to give you diseases from a distance
vos
no trashcans
dirty water
spinach
cordial look in the eye and Buen@s Días/Tardes/Noches, que le vaya biens, and etc!
12 person mini vans filled to 22 plus a helper sticking his head out of the window
indigenous languages
sticking out like a sore thumb for being white and thus foreign
Chile
people stop on the street to give food to stray dogs (still perros)
tú y tú action (men)
well kept trashcans everywhere!
water that I drink out of the tap!
romaine lettuce if you're lucky
angry looks when you smile at someone; confused looks when you greet them
metro stations and seatbelts
weird accent. just weird
sticking out like a sore thumb for looking like i could be chilean, and then being a foreigner with a non-chilean accent who still speaks spanish.
Reflections from Day 4 in Santiago.
One word for Chilean haircuts: Mullet.
(In unbelievable varieties of color, height, gel usage, forms, and weirdness, all with a requisite high degree of vanity and usually appearing on a large gang-like cluster of 12 or so youngsters who cannot move two meters without the presence of at least 3 others. See wannabe hipsters.)
Wannabe Hipsters: You are 15 and have weird shirts that say things like "Got crabs?". Do you even understand what that means?
Chilean Spanish: Are we even speaking the same language? Because at this point one would never guess. Just because I can't understand what you say when you speak to me at 10,000 times the speed of light with a funny accent, doesn't mean that I have never heard Spanish before. You just speak kind of funny, and I am getting used to it. Please, thank you.
The Metro: Not designed for sitting.
Tomar las 11 (take-drink-eat the 11): Actually means eat a very light meal and beverage at approximately 8'o'clock at night. What?
Chileno time: Not nearly as late (read: 20 minutes instead of an hour) as Guatemalan time but still equally as annoying.
Santiago: Still neat and exciting. (And hot.)
(In unbelievable varieties of color, height, gel usage, forms, and weirdness, all with a requisite high degree of vanity and usually appearing on a large gang-like cluster of 12 or so youngsters who cannot move two meters without the presence of at least 3 others. See wannabe hipsters.)
Wannabe Hipsters: You are 15 and have weird shirts that say things like "Got crabs?". Do you even understand what that means?
Chilean Spanish: Are we even speaking the same language? Because at this point one would never guess. Just because I can't understand what you say when you speak to me at 10,000 times the speed of light with a funny accent, doesn't mean that I have never heard Spanish before. You just speak kind of funny, and I am getting used to it. Please, thank you.
The Metro: Not designed for sitting.
Tomar las 11 (take-drink-eat the 11): Actually means eat a very light meal and beverage at approximately 8'o'clock at night. What?
Chileno time: Not nearly as late (read: 20 minutes instead of an hour) as Guatemalan time but still equally as annoying.
Santiago: Still neat and exciting. (And hot.)
11 February 2008
My first night in my new home.
The good news is that I have an apartment. And a cell phone. (The main goal for this week is: get a bicycle, get to know my local grocery situation, catch up on sleep, and explore...) I live on the 19th floor of a giant building and every room has giant windows with beautiful views of the city.
I can't understand my three Chilean roommates por nada, but I am trying nonetheless. We watched Flight 93 tonight, which was a crazy experience in which I was asked to explain what Americans "think" about 9/11. I said it was a heavy question, and that I was not a normal American. They all expressed their doubt about who the authors of the act were, particularly after having seen Fahrenheit 9-11 and various things about the controversial discrepancies between the actual events, the results, and the official government story of what happened.
I struggled in my awful Spanish to say that I don't think we will ever know, because the entire country doesn't care enough to research things on their own and that unless some media group like Fox (who has a blatant political agenda) were to radically change....the public is never going to be fully informed because they don't care to. Even if it were not terrorists from the Middle East, American people are happy to accept that story because it fits within the polarized cultural notions we have of us vs. them and are complacent with the political agenda that the government has long had but is just couched in terms of "anti-terrorism" that we use to advance our own geopolitics. I tried to say that I felt sorry for everyone's losses. And that the whole situation was awful, particularly as we as a country threw away in less than three years all the positive sentiment we had from the rest of the world, and that I had a hard time separating the actual events of 9-11 from the politics and awful foreign and domestic policy backlashes from it.
What actually came out of my mouth was complete nonsensical blabber in poor poor Spanish that made no sense. I have a long ways to go. The Chilean accent is difficult, and my ability to speak is still woefully inadequate. But, I am here safe and sound!
I can't understand my three Chilean roommates por nada, but I am trying nonetheless. We watched Flight 93 tonight, which was a crazy experience in which I was asked to explain what Americans "think" about 9/11. I said it was a heavy question, and that I was not a normal American. They all expressed their doubt about who the authors of the act were, particularly after having seen Fahrenheit 9-11 and various things about the controversial discrepancies between the actual events, the results, and the official government story of what happened.
I struggled in my awful Spanish to say that I don't think we will ever know, because the entire country doesn't care enough to research things on their own and that unless some media group like Fox (who has a blatant political agenda) were to radically change....the public is never going to be fully informed because they don't care to. Even if it were not terrorists from the Middle East, American people are happy to accept that story because it fits within the polarized cultural notions we have of us vs. them and are complacent with the political agenda that the government has long had but is just couched in terms of "anti-terrorism" that we use to advance our own geopolitics. I tried to say that I felt sorry for everyone's losses. And that the whole situation was awful, particularly as we as a country threw away in less than three years all the positive sentiment we had from the rest of the world, and that I had a hard time separating the actual events of 9-11 from the politics and awful foreign and domestic policy backlashes from it.
What actually came out of my mouth was complete nonsensical blabber in poor poor Spanish that made no sense. I have a long ways to go. The Chilean accent is difficult, and my ability to speak is still woefully inadequate. But, I am here safe and sound!
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